


it's an afterglow (it's an echo)

by iamirondad



Series: "fragile things, helpless things, broken things" whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26814466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamirondad/pseuds/iamirondad
Summary: “Where am I?”“Well, technically you’re still in the Sanctum.”Strange sighed, “Alas, your soul is elsewhere.”Tony rolled his eyes, watching Toomes put on his Wingsuit, “So, I’m unconscious?”“Not exactly.” Strange explained, “Your soul, is stuck.”“Thanks for dumbing it down,” Tony crossed his arms, “Stuck where?”“Haven’t you worked that out yet?”Tony looked to the skies, as Toomes landed, on a nearby ledge, “-Peter?”“You’re in his mind, you’re seeing his memories.”Strange cut in, “You’re only going to see—”  His words drowned out like they were communicating over a bad phone line, “You’re—”TLDR: Tony messes with an artifact, in the Sanctum Sanctorum, and ends up, stuck inside Peter's darkest memories.
Relationships: Ben Parker & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange
Series: "fragile things, helpless things, broken things" whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947778
Comments: 10
Kudos: 322
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	it's an afterglow (it's an echo)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings in the end notes.

Tony loved visiting Strange’s place.

There was a lot to see, and for once, he understood none of it.

He was a man of science, and he refused to be drawn in by magic.

However, he did have trouble, with listening to the rules, but that was nothing new.

He tried, but he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting. He’d reach out, to touch artifacts, forgetting that he shouldn’t.

That was why he brought Peter with him.

“Mr. Stark.” Peter turned, batting Tony’s hand away from a display unit, “Stop it.”

Tony pulled back his hand, “I was looking.”

Peter hissed, with a glare, “Look with your eyes.” He turned back, to continue his conversation with Strange.

It was times like these, that Tony couldn’t believe he was the parental one.

Tony stepped aside, scanning the display, on his left.

A small, black box caught his attention. It didn’t look like much, but somehow, it was worthy of its own shelf. Tony unconsciously raised his hand, reaching out to quickly poke it, while Peter was distracted.

Before he could change course, Peter screamed out, “Mr. Stark, wait-” He grabbed Tony’s low-hanging wrist, with a trembling hand.

Tony’s finger barely scraped the artifact, but when he turned, to see Strange’s wide-eyes, and a pale look, he realized he’d made the wrong choice. Strange’s cloak wrapped around him, he stepped forward, with a yelp, “Peter, let go!”

A bright white light blinded Tony, “Shit.”

He blinked, to clear his vision. He was standing, outside. Underneath his feet, was damp grass, and beside him, was cobble ground.

“Peter?” He called, flipping to the side, “Strange?” He rubbed his fingers against his temple, “I am an idiot.”

It was dark, and he seemed to be, in the middle of some sort of industrial estate, “Peter!” He spun on his heel, “Holy Shit.” 

In front of him was a fallen building – a pile of rubble, to put it simply. It couldn’t have been long since it was demolished, he could tell by the accompanying dust in the air.

A figure hurried past him, barely visible, Tony waved an arm out, “Hey!”

The figure didn’t even flinch.

Tony hurried ahead, “Hey, can-” He dug his heel, into the mud below, when the person’s face became visible, under the moonlight.

It was Adrian Toomes.

Tony curled his fingers, digging them into his palm, “You—” Raged absorbed him, he clenched his fists by his side, “Toomes!” He hissed, reaching out his hand, to grab the man’s shoulder, but his hand, fell right through him, “What?”

He reached up, waving his hand in front of Toomes’ face, but he went, unnoticed.

“Fuck.”

This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be.

“ _Tony, can you hear me?_ ” Strange’s voice echoed, it came from all directions, sending a chill up Tony’s spine.

“Yes.” He sprinted ahead, looking everywhere, “I can hear you, where are you?”

“ _Where you left us.”_ Strange said, his tone laced with sarcasm, “ _It’s going to take some time getting you back – you gotta hang on.”_

“Where am I?”

“ _Well, technically you’re still in the Sanctum.”_ Strange sighed, “ _Alas, your soul is elsewhere.”_

Tony rolled his eyes, watching Toomes put on his Wingsuit, “So, I’m unconscious?”

“ _Not exactly_.” Strange explained, “ _Your soul is stuck.”_

“Thanks for dumbing it down,” Tony crossed his arms, “Stuck where?”

“ _Haven’t you worked that out yet_?”

Tony looked to the skies, as Toomes landed, on a nearby ledge, “-Peter?”

“ _You’re in his mind, you’re seeing his memories.”_ Strange cut in, “ _You’re only going to see_ —” His words drowned out like they were communicating over a bad phone line, “ _You’re_ —”

Tony tapped the back of his ear, “You’re breaking up, Doc.”

“ _I’m sor-ry, Ton-y_.” Strange’s voice glitched, “ _You’re on your own_.”

Silence.

“Ah.” Tony combed a hand through his hair, “Brilliant.” 

It was Peter’s mind, but considering Tony’s day job, it wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever experienced.

This was the night that Peter defeated Toomes.

Tony knew about the fallen building, but from Happy’s report, it was likely that Toomes had demolished it to hide evidence of his wrongdoing.

Peter’s familiar voice screamed, “Hello! Hello!”

Something invisible hit Tony’s chest, paralyzing him, “Kid?” He pressed a hand to his chest, _this is a memory, this is a memory, this is only a memory._

“Please.” Peter sobbed, in desperation, “Hey, hey, please. I’m down here. I’m down here—”

Tony leaped forward, “Peter!”

It dawned on him, pretty quickly.

“No.”

Peter was trapped, underneath the rubble.

It wasn’t _his_ Peter.

Still, Peter had never told him about this.

Tony took in a deep breath and charged forward, he phased through the rubble, like it wasn’t even there, because it wasn’t.

He came to a standstill, and got down on his knees, “Peter—”

Peter was laid on his front, crushed underneath a heap of rubble, wearing his ridiculous makeshift suit.

His face was a gallery of small cuts and bruises, he was breathing, at irregular intervals, as he stared down, at the puddle in front of him.

Peter would be dead if he didn’t have his powers. This would have killed him.

Tony was unsure, how he’d managed to survive, without backup. Scenarios ran through his head. If the debris, to their left, had fallen at another angle, even Spider-Man would have died on impact.

Toomes would have gotten away with his plan.

Tony would have recovered _his_ kid’s body, curled under the rubble, of a random building – he wouldn’t have been Tony’s kid then, they’d only just met. It was the time after this, that Tony grew to love Peter.

If Peter had met his end, in pain and distress, under tons of concrete, the world would have lost its greatest hero.

May would have lost, the only family she had left, and she’d resent Tony. So would Ned. He wouldn’t be able to blame them, it would have been his fault, it was his fault.

Tony would have lost, his last hope. That’s what Peter was. Peter, by being himself, gave Tony a new perspective of life. A _hope_ that kept Tony’s head out of the sand, in those five years that Peter was gone.

Tears welled in Tony’s eyes, “Kid, I’m sorry…” He held a trembling hand under his chin, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here—”

Peter started ahead, with red-rimmed eyes, and a trembling lower lip, “Come on, Peter.” He spoke to himself, he moved, shifting the debris off his back, “Come on, Spider-Man.”

Tony sat back, his jaw dropped, “Holy Shit.”

“Come on, Spider-Man.” Peter managed to get up, onto his feet, “Come on, Spider-Man.” He held up his arms, using everything he had to shift the rubble, “Come on, Spider-Man!”

“Oh, kid—” Tony didn’t have long to be surprised, or amazed because suddenly, he was falling. He landed, on his feet, on an unfamiliar street corner, “What the fuck.”

_Somewhere new._

Peter walked past him, with a _Star Wars_ magazine tucked under his arm, and a can of Coke, in his hand.

The kid looked young, his curls swooped down, covering his eyes, but his jaw was clenched, and his eyes were burning holes in the sidewalk below his feet.

Tony mindlessly called out, “Peter?” It was a force of habit, like talking out loud to a movie, whenever the character was heading head-first into danger.

A gunshot ricocheted in the distance, perhaps a street or two away from them. Tony flinched, gaining air. It was New York, so it wasn’t unheard of, but it was sudden, breaking the silence.

Peter stopped, in his tracks, and turned back.

A man charged into view, sprinting across the road, with his head hung low.

Peter watched him go, with a knowing look in his eyes. The kid straightened his back, blew a slow breath, and ran back, heading towards the direction of the gunshot.

Tony followed, in a slow jog.

This was early for Peter, the origin of Spider-Man. It was clear, he’d already been bitten, at this point – he wasn’t wearing his glasses, and he was running, with ease, with no need for an asthma inhaler.

They turned a corner, and Peter came to a sudden standstill.

Tony swayed aside, to see what Peter was.

He gasped, stepping back, “Oh, God—”

It was Ben Parker, he was sprawled across the sidewalk, on his back. His hand was rested against his bullet wound, blood seeping through his fingers, as he slowly moved his head.

The can and magazine dropped from Peter’s grasp, as he leaped forward, “Ben!”

Tony brought a hand to his head, “Jesus—”

“Uncle Ben!” Peter yelped, stumbling over, “Uncle Ben!” He collapsed onto his knees, with a heavy thud, “Oh, shit—”

Ben choked out, “Peter?”

“It’s me, I’m here, it’s Peter.” With shaking hands, he pulled out his phone, “No…”

Tony cautiously stepped closer, Peter’s cell was dead.

“Eh..” Peter fumbled, through Ben’s coat pocket, “Come on—”

Ben weakly moved his hand, away from the wound, “Petey—”

Peter shushed him, “Gotta—"

“Buddy—” Ben gargled, “Look at—"

Peter swayed back, sitting on his heels, “Ben—"

Ben reached up, resting his bloodied hand against Peter’s cheek, “My Peter…”

Tony’s throat cracked, he brushed the back of his hand, over his eyes. He used to despise, the idea of not being there, for his mother, when she died. He’d even envied Peter, at times, knowing the kid was there, with Ben, in his last moments. He didn’t anymore. If he’d had to watch, his mum, die, knowing he couldn’t save her, would have been a fate worse than death.

A fate Peter survived.

“I—” Peter sobbed, “I—”

Ben’s eyes flickered shut, and his hand fell away from Peter’s face.

“Ben?” Peter’s small voice cried; he pulled on Ben’s arm, “Ben! No, please!”

Tony edged closer, “Kid.”

“Ben, please!” Peter sobbed, “I can’t do this on my own.” He held his head back, shrieking as loud as he could, “Help! Somebody, please!”

Tony stepped over, with caution, he knelt, “Peter—”

“Ben…” He choked on a sob, “ _Please_ , I wanna go home.”

Tony hated not being able to reach out and help, “Kid…”

A new voice, came from nearby, “Oh my, God!”

And another, “—I think he’s been shot!”

“Call the police!”

A lady, no older than forty, rushed over, kneeling beside Peter, “Honey…”

A man stood behind Tony, a cell phone pressed to his ear.

Peter kept a hand on Ben’s shoulder, he turned, “Can you—"

She locked an arm around Peter’s back, “We can help.”

“I couldn’t—” 

She gently shushed him, and took his hand, “Come with me, sweetheart.”

Peter shook his head, “I can’t leave him.”

“My husband, George –“ She pointed up, at the man, “He’s gonna keep your dad safe, I promise.” She spoke gently, “And I’m gonna take care of you.”

Peter inhaled sharply, “Okay—”

She locked her fingers his arm and helping him onto his feet, “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

She guided him aside, coaxing him away, making sure his back was turned.

Tony made a mental image of her because he needed to thank her, for saving his kid, on the worst day of his life.

He closed his eyes, as he started falling again – this time, he landed on the muddy ground. He stood straight, looking around, “Fuck.”

This time, it was a familiar sight.

It was the battleground, the place he almost died, laying his life down for the universe.

He knew what he was destined to see, but he wasn’t ready.

He turned, on his heel, to see Rhodey, knelt by his side.

Tony saw himself, collapsed against a pile of debris, his entire right side charred beyond recognition.

He jerked, hearing swoop overheard, “No—”

Peter landed, with a haunted look across his face.

Tony jumped ahead, reaching out, “Kid, don’t—”

Peter cried out, acting strong, “Mr. Stark?”

Rhodey hung his head, moving aside, to give Peter space.

Peter sprinted ahead, kneeling, “Hey– Mr. Stark?” He grabbed Tony’s uninjured hand, “Can you hear me?” His voice broke, “It's Peter.”

Tony glared, at himself, “Say something.”

“Hey.” Peter breathed, slowly, “We won, Mr. Stark– We won, Mr. Stark. We won.” He cracked, “You did it, sir, you did it.”

Tony swayed back, turning away. Sometimes, he doubted his place in Peter’s life, who he was and what he stood for, but he realised, hearing the same terror in Peter’s voice, from the night that Ben died, that Peter saw him as a father-figure, that was who he was destined to be.

Tony jolted, as a hand wrapped around his wrist, and Peter shouted out, “Tony!”

Tony sprung upright, his eyes flew open, “Woah.” He waited until his head, stopped spinning, before taking in his surroundings, he was back in Strange’s place, sat on the floor, “Peter?”

Peter was knelt, in front of him, hand on his arm, “Ugh.” He sighed heavily, and then slapped Tony’s arm, “Idiot.”

“Huh?”

Peter whined, sitting down, “We couldn’t get you back.”

Tony looked up to Strange, “That was—” He swallowed, “A lot.”

“You were merely in Peter’s darkest memories.”

Tony barked a laugh, “Merely?”

Peter snapped his head up, his cheeks devoid of color, “What did you see?”

Tony nudged his chin up, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Peter nodded.

Tony turned his attention back to Strange, “What was that thing?”

“It’s called the Truce.” He said, “An artifact that was created to end wars.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “How?”

“The leader, from each side, would see the other’s darkest memories, to help them better understand one another’s sides.”

Tony frowned, seeing the obvious flaw with that, “Oh, really?”

“Despite it being invented for that reason, most of the time, it achieved the opposite.”

“There it is.” He flinched, spinning to Peter, “Wait, so Peter, did you—"

“I was able to stop Peter, from seeing into your mind, but it took some time, extracting you—"

Tony leaned forward, grabbing Peter’s hand, “Thank God, for that.” He got up, planting a kiss against Peter’s cheek.

Peter turned, “Will he be okay now, Strange?”

“Yes, he’ll be fine.” Strange crossed his arms, “And Stark?”

Tony kept his eyes on Peter, “Yes, dear?”

“Keep your hands to yourself, next time.”

“Gotcha.”

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: Peter stuck under a building (Homecoming,) Ben Parker's death (Gunshot,) and Tony Stark's death (but it ends well, don't worry)
> 
> The Chapter Title is lyrics from the song 'Joy' by 'Sleeping At Last.'


End file.
